


seek out to satisfy those thrills

by heartseekers



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, drug dealer hangyul, he gets his dick stepped on, seungwoo gets mentioned too, seungyoun's in too deep but can't stop even if he's aware that he fucked up, undercover cop cho seungyoun, undercover cop seungyoun gets addicted to hangyul and also what he's selling, until he comes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartseekers/pseuds/heartseekers
Summary: With nothing to do, Seungyoun’s got more time to waste by himself and to also notice the jitters wracking his body. He worries that it’s too obvious, the fine tremor in his hands and how he’s so unsettled sometimes he feels like climbing the walls, especially when he’s got a new meeting scheduled. The prospect of seeing Hangyul makes his teeth buzz until they’re aching, and lately that’s not only because Hangyul’s bringing him his fix, keeping the little bag between two loose fingers until Seungyoun hands over the money. If Seungwoo knew, he’d be so ashamed.
Relationships: Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Lee Hangyul
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44
Collections: Midnight Stories 2019 Fanfic Collection





	seek out to satisfy those thrills

**Author's Note:**

> for prompt number 128 of the midnight stories fic fest, as follows:
>
>> 128\. Cho Seungyoun is a police officer who is in charge of drugs case. He played a bit, and one day found himself addicted to the drugs itself, along with the drug dealer, Lee Hangyul.
> 
>   
> chose not to use archive warnings due to the nature of this work; take care while going through this but other than that, please enjoy! title is from cage the elephant's 'ain't no rest for the wicked'. 

His hands are shaking when he pulls the heavy metal door open, trying not to wince at the terrible screech. There’s nobody else around but Seungyoun still tries to be careful, eyes darting from left to right as if expecting someone to jump out at him. It’s an unfound fear—his partner has long since dropped the case, moving on to greener pastures, something that’s greater than just a drug bust. In Seungyoun’s opinion, it’s all work that needs to be done; a few months ago he was thankful for the seemingly easy job, not knowing he’d get in too deep. 

The lights flicker weakly before settling, bathing the concrete and steel beams around him in a sickly yellow glow. Seungyoun stops walking, pausing to breathe through his mouth as he looks at the empty space. There’s only a few wooden pallets stacked to the side and Seungyoun wonders what he has to do to gain more of Hangyul’s trust in order to pick a different meeting spot. He’s sure he’s not treating his other clients like this—but maybe they also don’t get to buy directly from the man himself. It’s a weird thing to be proud of, but Seungyoun still feels the tell-tale swell in his chest when he thinks about it. One step closer to bringing this all down.

With nothing to do, Seungyoun’s got more time to waste by himself and to also notice the jitters wracking his body. He worries that it’s too obvious, the fine tremor in his hands and how he’s so unsettled sometimes he feels like climbing the walls, especially when he’s got a new meeting scheduled. The prospect of seeing Hangyul makes his teeth buzz until they’re aching, and lately that’s not only because Hangyul’s bringing him his fix, keeping the little bag between two loose fingers until Seungyoun hands over the money. If Seungwoo knew, he’d be so ashamed.

Faint footsteps make Seungyoun perk up, lifting his head to look in the direction of the sound. His heart starts beating faster and he wills it to slow down, already feeling the sweat build up around his temples. Hangyul’s going to notice and his lips are going to lift up in that infuriating smirk Seungyoun’s grown both accustomed to and almost fond of, despite the situation at hand. He knows Hangyul’s just a kid compared to him, youth etched into the high points of his face and filling out the lines around his mouth when he’s not smiling or talking; but he’s already chosen this path for himself and built a following, just enough to garner the precinct’s attention and send Seungyoun hot on his heels.

Hangyul stops right under a lightbulb, shadows painted harshly onto his features. He looks the same as always, innocuous, comfortable, _normal_ , like he’s just out on a grocery run. There’s a dirty yellow scarf peeking out from the folds of his puffy winter jacket and his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, like he’s not hiding anything in there. The tell-tale crinkle of plastic is unmistakable in the haunting quiet of the warehouse, and Seungyoun can see the way Hangyul’s moving his fingers inside his pocket; like he’s just a dumb dog he’s keeping a treat from. 

They look at each other for a while, neither daring to break the silence. Seungyoun still feels awkward about it, in a way that he thinks is oddly fitting. They don’t talk much but Hangyul’s privy to some of the details about his life—a hastily-made cover that he’s stumbled over when he relayed the information back to Seungwoo: office job, a divorce, feeling like he can’t really keep up at work. It’s flimsy at best but Hangyul seems to have eaten it up, and as long as Seungyoun doesn’t accidentally slip up, it should be good. 

With a tilt of his head, Hangyul motions towards the pallets. He heads there first, turning his back to Seungyoun as he does, sitting down with an expectant look on his face. Seungyoun wonders what he has in mind for him this time. His hand goes to his pocket and he pulls out a small ziploc bag, the glare from the overhead lights obscuring the contents from view; Seungyoun doesn’t have to look to know what Hangyul has brought him.

“I got you an eight ball,” he says as he swings the little bag in front of Seungyoun. It’s more than what he’s asked of Hangyul before, but still nothing that would raise suspicion—or so he hopes. Most of the contents make it back to the precinct, carefully labeled with the date and amount and then stored into a box in their evidence locker. Seungwoo had been understanding every time Seungyoun came back with less than what he’s paid for, citing that Hangyul sometimes wants to see him try the coke right in front of him. He tries to leave out the part where he’s started looking forward to that, an excuse to spend more time with Hangyul—all in the name of getting to the bottom of this faster. 

Hangyul wriggles his fingers, a crooked motion that Seungyoun knows to mean that he should get closer. It’s one of those nights when he’s going to watch Seungyoun do a line right there, carefully packing the powder into a small tube to measure it out before handing it to the older man.

“D’you have anything on you? Like a card or something.” The question is innocent enough but Hangyul’s eyes are almost alight, boring down into Seungyoun’s where he’s standing in front of him. He mumbles something instead of giving Hangyul an actual answer and takes out his wallet, flipping it open to look for his ID. Suddenly, Hangyul snatches it out of his hands, smirking at Seungyoun and daring him to do something about it. Seungyoun feels his blood boil but he keeps it in, biting into the inside of his cheek when his face heats up in frustration. It wouldn’t do for a meek office worker to lunge at the younger man so he just watches as Hangyul takes out his payment, rolling up the bills and stuffing them into his sleeve.

Instead of giving it back to Seungyoun, he keeps looking through the contents, presumably for the card Seungyoun hasn’t had the time to take out. There’s not much that he keeps in his wallet, not when he knows he has to meet with Hangyul; but his police ID is in there and there’s more sweat beading up on his skin when Hangyul just rifles through the few side pockets, nails scraping over the plastic with a dull sound.

The card he pulls out is red and black and Seungyoun breathes a great sigh of relief. Hangyul pockets his wallet and brings out the small tube he carries with him, filling it up and then unloading the powder onto the shiny surface. He’s always meticulous while doing this, Seungyoun’s noticed, and he doesn’t know if another dealer would take so much care preparing a line for a customer. He takes his time to arrange the coke neatly, shaping it with his pinky and licking the pad of his finger afterwards. Seungyoun doesn’t know if that means he’s a user as well, or if he does it just for show.

Hangyul extends the card towards him and it makes him look like a benefactor, if it wasn’t for the coke sitting on top of the plastic. Seungyoun’s hands shake when he takes it, a few crystals falling out of the careful line they’ve been arranged in; something he doesn’t have to fake, those tremors. His wallet is still on Hangyul and Seungyoun hopes that his cover won’t be blown tonight of all nights. 

He brings the card closer to his face with a slow motion, trying not to disturb more of the powder with the force of his breathing. Seungyoun leans in and he can’t help but shift his eyes upwards at the last second, towards Hangyul, looking so comfortable on that pile of half-rotten, stained pallets. He sits atop the wood like a king, even with his hands shoved in his pockets and his face half-obscured by the scarf; Seungyoun’s his unfortunate subject, placed under scrutiny as Hangyul just watches silently.

The last thing he sees before closing his eyes against the onslaught of burning in his nose as he inhales the coke is Hangyul’s self-assured smile, all his attention on him.

No matter how many times he’s done this—and it must be nearing a handful but Seungyoun can’t really remember right now, _fuck_ , which is concerning—it always hits him hard right away. He swears Hangyul’s stuff is laced with something, not just cut with simple caffeine—he should really ask the guys in the lab to run a few tests on this, including purity, why haven’t they done that already, actually—ears clogging for a few mind-numbing seconds before everything sharpens up until Seungyoun swears he can feel his blood flowing in his veins, the slow drag upwards towards his frantic heart. The world becomes crystal clear and that’s when Seungyoun’s the most afraid that he’s fucked up, gone and got himself hooked on Hangyul’s coke and there’s no way he’ll be able to get out now. His hands tremble so badly he drops the card, the sound muted against the dirty concrete.

Usually he doesn’t panic, but he doesn’t know how much Hangyul gave him, if the little tube was the same he’s used all those times before. He doesn’t want to kneel but his legs fold out under him, palms shooting out to brace himself against the cold ground, head bowing and nose still _burning_. The only thing that’s not obscured by his hair falling in his face is Hangyul’s legs, the sleek black of his running shoes contrasting with the white sole. He swings one foot out, poking Seungyoun’s knee when just sits there motionlessly, waiting for a response. Seungyoun tries to get up, ignoring the way his head spins dangerously and how the floor looks like it’s trying to come up to meet him.

“Heard they changed up the recipe, what do you think?” Hangyul’s voice comes from far away, filtering through the roar in Seungyoun’s ears. He can’t tell if the younger man is amused or if he’s just taking the piss out of him, enjoying having Seungyoun at his feet, the shivering, flighty mess that he is. 

Hangyul’s foot moves, and it registers to Seungyoun a bit too late; usually, Hangyul would do this before getting Seungyoun high, but Seungyoun knows that the end result would still be the same. He trembles when Hangyul pokes at the inside of his thigh, pressing along the seam of his trousers and making him spread his legs wider. The concrete is harsh on his knees where they’re digging into it, especially with the added pressure from Hangyul; but it doesn’t stop Seungyoun from exhaling loudly, a hot gust of air rasping past his throat. He tries to speak but can’t, only managing a squeak when Hangyul presses his foot down harder, tensing his thigh so he won’t topple over. 

“Didn’t think it would affect you like this,” he drones, voice lazy and thick. Seungyoun’s confused for a moment until he looks down, gasping when he sees that the front of his pants has tented up, everything visible even in the minimal light. Once he becomes aware of it it’s like the floodgates have opened and he feels his cock throb, not fully hard yet but slowly getting there as the roar in his ears increases with his bloodflow. He’s had Hangyul’s hands on his body before, hot and large where they held onto his hips and gripped his cock and he shudders at the memory, thighs flexing in a futile attempt to close his legs.

It’s embarrassing, especially with the way he’s kneeling. Hangyul just breathes out and shifts forward, covering Seungyoun’s crotch and pressing down, making the older man’s hands fly out to grab onto his ankle. The bone seems almost delicate under his fingers and he squeezes it out of instinct, tugging Hangyul’s entire leg down. His hips arch up helplessly, tipping his head back as he grinds his teeth in an effort to keep all his sounds behind them, but Hangyul leans forward and squeezes his jaw in one palm. “You’ve never really let me hear you before.”

And it’s true; all their other meetings have been in more public places. Somewhere behind a club where the music was so loud Seungyoun could feel it thrum through his body even with all the distance between them and the building; at the mouth of an alley opening up into crowded street, once, where Hangyul just took his hand and lead him into the dark and narrow passage, making Seungyoun shiver at the brash decision (that’s when he made up his mind that Hangyul had to be crazy, or at least an adrenaline junkie; he just got his kicks some other way). Compared to all of that, the empty warehouse feels almost private.

Seungyoun’s pulled out of his little reverie when Hangyul twists his foot down on his dick, eliciting a sharp sound that carries throughout the building. His cheeks flush for an entirely different reason now, breath hitching painfully into his dry throat. There’s a tight whine building up into his chest that sounds too close to a plea for Seungyoun to be comfortable with it; he tries closing his mouth to stop it but the sound still squeezes through just barely, high and needy and everything Seungyoun wishes he wouldn’t be right now. His cock twitches in response to his own sounds and Seungyoun’s head fills with shame; Hangyul can’t be aware of that, but he still looks too put together, too smug at the events unfolding in front of him. 

“Can you come like that, hmm?” They haven’t officially exchanged names but Hangyul doesn’t need it to make Seungyoun lose himself in front of him; the hardest part is not hissing out Hangyul’s name when he finishes, brain still muddled and a bit cum-dumb. It’s not professional but he can’t help it, not when Hangyul insists on jerking him off even after Seungyoun’s come, oversensitive and jumpy. 

Seungyoun shakes his head, lips slick with spit at the corners. He wipes his mouth, making a vague face of disgust when he sees how much moisture has built up, feeling too much like a dog. Hangyul just twists his foot again and Seungyoun’s hips fuck upwards into it, the hand around his ankle tighening. He ends up keeping the younger man’s leg there and shamefully rutting into it, mouth slack as he finally pants out loud, short, guttural sounds following almost immediately. There’s a wonderful haze settling over his mind, a sense of peace that encompasses him almost whole. Apart from the buildup at the base of his stomach that’s demanding his attention everything seems to have quieted down, including the roar of panic that almost seized him earlier. He stops caring as much about what he looks like and how Hangyul must think he’s pathetic, just chasing his own orgasm blindly, bowing his body over Hangyul’s leg until his sweaty forehead touches his knee. His movements are more limited like this but it doesn’t matter, the sensation amplified with the slow _grind_ of his clothed cock against the harsh sole of Hangyul’s shoe. 

For a moment, Seungyoun swears he feels the air around his ear shift; when he looks up, Hangyul’s sitting there with his hand half-extended outwards, looking a bit awkward and out of place. It would’ve been a sweet gesture, he thinks, but not fitting for them. It sparks a thought inside his head but it’s gone before Seungyoun can grasp it, mind buzzing the closer he gets.

His orgasm is nothing glorious. There’s growls coming from his chest, animalistic and entirely unlike him; usually he’s more quiet, but not this time. An all-consuming heat suffuses him, beginning all the way down in his toes and making its way upwards until it reaches his neck. There’s a ball of want knotted tightly in his stomach, expanding in the small space until it fills him up fully—and that’s when he comes, going completely quiet and motionless. Sticky white stripes paint the inside of his underwear where neither of them can see and Seungyoun groans at the heat, basking in the sensation for a moment. He twitches, hips flying up in a few tiny aborted motions that spark something in his guts but not enough to keep him going—or to keep him from wincing at the unpleasant sensation.

Detangling himself from Hangyul is a bit awkward; his legs have fallen asleep and he stumbles as he gets up, ignoring the way Hangyul sits up to help. He can’t meet the younger man’s eyes and he feels unstable, anxious, like _something_ ’s going to happen. Seungyoun doesn’t know what to do with his hands, keeping them down by his sides listlessly. 

The air between them is charged and Seungyoun wants to run away. It’s cowardly and shameful, but ultimately a better alternative than just waiting for Hangyul to speak up; what do you even say after something like that, anyway? 

Blood still pumping, he thinks of Seungwoo’s gentle smile turning disappointing when he gets back to the station, the pitiful look the older man will surely direct towards Seungyoun when this gets out—because a part of Seungyoun knows that it _will_ happen. He walks away and tries unsticking his pants from his crotch only to have them fall right back into place, wincing at the cold and wet feeling and the phantom weight of Hangyul’s foot on his dick, how he pressed his heel down mercilessly. He pats his pockets and has a moment of panic when he can’t find his wallet, mouth already opening to shout in indignance. He hears a small thump behind him and just barely manages to catch Hangyul turning his back to him, leaving the same way he came.

Seungyoun picks up his wallet, feeling apprehensive. Neither of them is chatty by any means, but this entire thing feels like it’s still up in the air, unfinished and jagged. He opens his wallet and thumbs through it aimlessly; not sure what he’s looking for. The black and red card is there, a few scratches marking the back, and there’s also a scrap of paper and the little bag he paid for. Seungyoun wants to throw it away despite knowing he needs to bring it back with him, and the paper… he doesn’t even want to check that. 

His stomach rolls when he lifts it up all the same, staring unseenly at what’s written on it. There’s a name, one that he already knows, and a phone number. Hangyul had always been the one to contact him before, caller ID hidden; this gives Seungyoun a way to reach him as well, and he’s not sure what to make of it. 

Counting it as a small win, Seungyoun stuffs it directly into his pocket, closing his wallet and putting it away. He sighs and wipes his face, palm coming away wet, trying to clear his head before stepping out of the old building.

It’s a long way back to the station and Seungyoun thinks he’s going to walk there, needing the time to organize his thoughts. He doesn’t like keeping Seungwoo in the dark but he’ll have to do it this time, another lie that he’ll carry with him. The cold air helps sober him up, even if he knows he’s still riding the aftereffects of whatever Hangyul had given him tonight. His ears pop once he inhales, holding his breath until his lungs burn and his vision swims dangerously around the edges—but bearing that is nothing compared to the guilt he’ll surely feel after the case closes.

**Author's Note:**

> the sad thing is that seungyoun won’t ever get to participate in runs with hangyul because he’s tried his stuff one too many times and he’s definitely hooked on it by now; hangyul’s 100% aware of this but he likes stringing seungyoun along,, until he maybe catches feels :’) he’s a lonely boy.
> 
> not mentioned is also the fact that hangyul cooks everything himself in addition to making deliveries; the police don't think this is just a one man show because it's kind of hard to believe a single person is running an entire budding drug,,, business. please suspend your disbelief as well when it comes to this (which is also my reasoning as to why seungyoun doesn't simply turn hangyul in when it's convenient)
> 
> my commissions are open! as always, you can find me on 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/deaconkink)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/deaconkink)   
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